lcrelyea
rebeccapatrick
ce.
Tommy Wilson
stephenkillion
amsettineri
Peter Cavanaugh
AndrewFiled under: Rainy Day Songs,Songs to listen to with the windows down,Sunny Dispositions
We’re two weeks away from summer (and graduation!), so I’m constantly daydreaming about the next few months as an escape from term papers, books, exams, blah! But these daydreams keep making me smile, as well as the new summer songs I’ve had on repeat – one of which is “On Melancholy Hill,” from the Gorillaz.
On Melancholy Hill – The Gorillaz
Up on Melancholy Hill,
There’s a plastic tree.
Are you here with me?
Just looking out on the day
Of another dream
In mid July I’ll be going on a six-day river trip through Desolation Canyon on the Green River with the Perry family.
(1) Six days with around twenty Perry family members = me being a very brave girlfriend.
(2) Six days without showers.
(3) Six days of having an excuse to use the river as a shower.
(4) Six days of floating in the water because it’s too hot to be in the raft.
(5) Bears?
(6) Gear!
Gear! So I have a decent amount of camping equipment – certainly enough to get me by on a weekend trip. But since there are around twenty people on this trip I can’t borrow gear → me having an excuse to stock up on everything I should have but don’t.
Hallelujah Christmas has come early this year.
Toodles,
Rebecca
Filed under: Dance like no one is watching,Inspirational Anthems,Songs of Triumph,Songs to listen to with the windows down,sing like no one is listening | Tags: Radical Face, Welcome Home
1. I’m ecstatic Radical Face finally has a music video for this song and also that it absolutely fits.
2. Find some uber nice headphones, or a stereo to listen to this. Loudly.
Graduation is getting closer and closer, and while I’m doing my best to keep it together, not knowing what is going to happen is extremely unsettling. Every time my family (or I) moved we at least knew where we were going, and where we were going to live. But now, I’m not sure where KP and I will be, when we’ll be there, or what we’ll be doing.
But what is solid is the feeling of home that I know is coming eventually – complete assurance that this is where you’re supposed to be. I’ve only really had that twice (in Paris and visiting North Carolina), but every time over the past two years when I’ve listened to “Welcome Home,” that same joy is just all over the place, pressing against the walls, bursting from the car.
Sheets are swaying from an old clothesline
Like a row of capture ghosts over old dead grass
Was never much but we made the most
Welcome home.
Toodles,
Rebecca
Hey all -
I have a musical mystery and I thought “what better place to ask for help?” Last Friday night Kyle and I went to pick up Thai Kitchen for dinner.* On the drive Kyle set the iPod and these incredibly beautiful and sweet songs came on. The artists sounded sort of like an immature Cloud Cult, but they definitely fell into the category of music that essentially makes me shut up when it’s playing. Now here’s the puzzler.
He can’t remember when or where he put these songs on his iPod, and it’s a super old one so all I could see of the artist name is Timberidge Historic. One of the songs was “I Sailed With Magellan.” Now, I’ve looked on iTunes, Google, and Grooveshark, and have not found anything. I’m going to the local record store today to see if Travis knows anything, but does anyone know (1) who I’m talking about or (2) where else I could look?
Toodles,
Rebecca
*Thai Kitchen is this hole in the wall on the southside of town with am-a-zing food that is pretty inexpensive, and is always playing Planet Earth when I visit.
If you could choose one artist to sing you one song to sleep, just once, what would it be? Mine would be “Our Way to Fall,” by Yo La Tengo, because that song is falling in love to me. What a wonderful thing to hear as you’re drifting into dreams.
I remember a summer’s day
I remember walking up to you
I remember my face turned red
I remember staring at my feet
I remember before we met
I remember sitting next to you
I remember pretending I wasn’t looking
….
I remember the way you made me feel
We’ll try and try even if it lasts an hour
with all our might we’ll try and make it ours
cause we’re on our way we’re on our way to fall in love
Toodles,
Rebecca
There are many things I miss about the various places I’ve lived, for example, cafes in Paris. They just don’t exist here. Barbecue from Georgia – not any of this Indiana sauce smothered nonsense. That just doesn’t exist here. But I cannot see good reason why people cannot wave as they pass each other on the road here.
When I visit family in Georgia and we drive somewhere, except for on the highway, and a car comes near each driver lifts a hand up from the steering wheel just a tad to wave.
At the very beginning of the summer I registered for a kayak clinic at the Nantahala Outdoor Center in North Carolina. Kyle drove me down so that he could take that week to go kayaking with some old friends, and take advantage of all the recent rainfall. As we got closer, especially after Highway 129 (an 11 mile stretch of road taking you from Tennessee to North Carolina with 303 hairpin turns, known as the Tail of the Dragon to motorcyclists) we saw more and more cars with kayaks on their car racks. Now waving at 55 mph is kind of hard, which is why I’ve usually just done it in neighborhoods or city streets, but every time we passed a car with a kayak, Kyle and the other person waved.
We passed a Jeep with two kayaks – they waved.
There was a Suburban on the side of the road with people outside getting ready to put in to the river. They all waved.
Even though we don’t live in the same city, or the same neighborhood, we all love the same wonderful thing. Just wave.
Toodles,
Rebecca
I’ve wanted to write a post about this song for ages, but haven’t been sure if it was appropriate with all the grown up songs that we usually write about. But after reading Tony’s post about the Muppets I realize that we’re never, ever, too old, and something that can inspire so much laughter and so many smiles should absolutely be shared.
I have trouble defining “tops” as in “top 5″ or “top 10 songs of all time,” but what I never have trouble identifying is my number one, absolute, favorite song. It has been since I was seven and I hope it will always be – “The Rainbow Connection” by Paul Williams and Kenneth Ascher performed by Kermit the Frog. Kyp Malone recently played it as guest dj on All Songs Considered, and I think I giggled for ten minutes, completely giddy that someone else felt it was as wonderful as I do.
When our family lived in Athens, Georgia, my aunt Ellen living in Decatur/Atlanta would drive to pick me up to spend weekends with her from time to time. She always had such a nice car with leather seats, no food stains, that always smelled new. Since then she has adopted an adorable little girl, and now the car has stains, barbie dolls, zip lock bags, and cheerios littering the seats. But that is beside the point. Each time we drove to and from Atlanta we would listen to The Muppet Movie soundtrack, then watch the movie before falling asleep that night. After we moved, I don’t think I listened to it until a few years ago when I realized it would be on iTunes. Consequently, “The Rainbow Connection” has remained in this bright time bubble, uninfluenced by any grown-up memories (good or bad), and never fails to put stars in my eyes.
The first video is “The Rainbow Connection” and the second is Andrew Bird performing “It’s Not Easy Being Green” in Paris.
Toodles,
Rebecca
Filed under: sing like no one is listening
I’ve had quite a writer’s block for songsforyourday for various reasons, mostly because I am a perfectionist and so there are only a few things that seem just right for a post. I came across this and immediately knew it would be perfect to share. Winter brings with it mostly gray and slow music, so I’m always eager to find something that lifts my spirits-this little song/video certainly does that-it spreads the joy.
All the images and sounds are taken from Alice in Wonderland, and mixed together to make a very cute three minutes. I found it pretty hard not to smile and bob back and forth when this is playing.
*Disclaimer: please disregard the lame youtube title it was given.
Rebecca
My parents have very recently moved back to Muncie, Indiana, from Paris which means I’m not sure when I will return again. It’s a bittersweet goodbye, but I’ve found myself more excited what this means for my future than what it means about not being able to visit my past. I’ve slowly grown away from Paris as my home for the past three years and so now, with an official break, I can put roots into a new place.
When one has moved to different cities, states, and countries many times it becomes harder and harder to do so with each move. It’s not that it is too difficult or painful to do, you just stop knowing how to plant yourself in a physical place. This may be the case for others, but for me I’ve called other things home. Songs, books, and friends become easier to invest in, and are less likely to dissappear as easily as a house can when you change residence. My sophmore year summer I quickly came to call Devendra Banhart a type of home (a very weird and kooky home), and when I can’t return to a physical place it’s nice to come back to him.
It’s like finding home
In an old folk song
That you’ve never ever heard
Still you know every word
And for sure you can sing along
Rebecca P.
I am on my last trip to Paris with my parents living there and it being officially home. Therefore I am trying to embrace everything I love here, and focusing on how I can bring those things back into my United States life. There are many things I associate with Paris, and many images/sounds/stereotypes that pop into my head when I think of Paris/France/the french. Georges Brassens perfectly fits one of those stereotypes.
Les Amoureux des Bancs Publics was one of the staple songs of my childhood. My father, having lived in France for eight years in the 80s and being bilingual, has always admired Brassens’s impeccable enunciation of every part of every word in this song. I grew to love it more after I moved away from Paris to begin university because of what it represented. The song itself, its lyrics, the way he sings in general is just utterly French: the Parisian lovers PDA-ing in le parc, the older French women who give those lovers judmental looks. You can almost hear him smoking a cigarette (truth be told he always used a pipe) with his magnifique mustache. He has the most typical but beautiful way of pronouncing his words, and listening to this always puts me back in the smoky cafés, the glasses of red wine, cigarettes, snobby waiters, the chairs and tables outside of restaurants, and the beauty of our city. This is the rich part of French culture: the richness of food (two hours and plus for lunch), of art, of music, of life. Paris was the place I discovered how to live richly, with feeling and effort into everything. Being here, one cannot help but transform simple acts into indulgences. I have taken many things for granted by calling Paris my home (such as riding the metro, croissants, museums). However, living richly prevents aimless walks, coffee after dinner, wine at every meal, and countless other daily activities from ever becoming mundane.
Be French for a night: put on a striped shirt, pour a glass of wine, spread some cheese on a slice of bread, brew coffee, and listen to Georges Brassens. Be this stereotype for a few minutes and discover how wonderful it is.
An equally amazing song you can play for this:
Rebecca P.
P.S. Look out for more Paris posts in the next 1 1/2 weeks.
